


Heel to haunch on bended knee

by elanurel



Series: Nothing Seems to Please [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bondage, Community: spn_30snapshots, F/M, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-08
Updated: 2010-02-08
Packaged: 2017-10-07 03:06:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elanurel/pseuds/elanurel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>She gets off on it. He gets off on her.</i></p><p>Written for the <b>spn_30snapshots</b> challenge.  The prompt was <i>say my name</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heel to haunch on bended knee

The muscles in her back stretch when she lowers her head, the skin around her wrists rough and red from the rope lashing her hands to the wrought-iron headboard. Her breath hitches every time he taps the inside of her right thigh with the riding crop, turning into a hiss when he slides the riding crop between her legs. Her toes curl and her hips rock and the rope jerks, whispers of 'please' and 'more' and 'God' tumbling out in that sweet drawl of hers the faster her hips buck.

"You like that, baby?"

He smiles when she groans, pulling back the crop and smacking her ass with it.

"Didn't answer my question."

She shifts her weight onto her knees, arching up into his fingers as he traces the welt, the red stripe darker than the flush in her cheeks. Her whole body twitches when he adds a second stripe next to the first, shivering when he brings his mouth down and traces the mark with his tongue. She tastes like salt and sweat and the musk that teases, a taunt that makes him want to drop the fucking crop and spread her open – makes him want to push his tongue up into her pussy until she's keening, until her wrists are rubbed raw and she's overflowing against his mouth with a wet spasm.

But there's something about the way she gasps whenever leather strikes skin and there's nothing to do but try and pull every single one he can out of her, three snaps of his wrist before he stops and listens to her breathe.

"Harder," she says softly, head still bowed. "I won't break."

He leans down, lips brushing her ear lobe. "Safe word."

"Don't need one."

He falls back onto his heels, listening to her gasp again when the head of the crop slips into the wet between her thigh, and there's a burn in his belly when the rope goes tight. Should just curl around her and sneak his fingers inside her cunt, feeling her pulse flutter while his thumb works her clit until she's clamping around his knuckles, until she's undulating against his hand and those tiny little moans of hers spill out just like the slick around his fingers when she comes.

"Say it," he hisses.

She looks at him over her shoulder. "Dean," she whispers, biting into her lower lip as she shudders against the head of the crop. She sucks in a breath. "It's Dean."

Can't help himself after that.

He drops the goddamn crop and pushes her up against the headboard, thrusts his cock inside her pussy as she balances on her knees. Her fingers wrap around wrought-iron curves when one hand digs into her hips, nails leaving behind marks as red as the stripes on her ass and the circles around her wrists. She smells like salt and sweat and the musk that teases, her voice a taunt that whispers his name every time she swells around him – every time skin slaps against skin until he fists a handful of hair, red strands spilling out from his fingers, and pulls her head backwards just in time to see her smile.

**Author's Note:**

> The title of this story is a song lyric from "This Corrosion" by The Sisters of Mercy.
> 
> For the curious, [this](http://racy.com/deluxe-riding-crop-24.html) is the crop that I had in mind while I wrote the story.
> 
> Hello, world. Meet my id.


End file.
